


Carolight by Candlelight

by Toomuchlovefortoomany



Category: Poldark (TV 2015), Poldark - All Media Types
Genre: Character Study, Comfort, Cute, F/M, Fluff, Some sad bits, i love them, oneshots, some bits from the books and some from the show
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-01-01 02:45:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 20,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12146940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toomuchlovefortoomany/pseuds/Toomuchlovefortoomany
Summary: A collection of one chapter short stories focusing on Dwight and Caroline's relationship- I hope you enjoy! (Oh, and be prepared for plenty of gazing out of windows.)





	1. Defined

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is the first story I'm publishing on this account, but I love Carolight/Penvenys and decided I should pluck up the courage to post some little stories that I write focused on this lovely couple, because despite the anxiety and sadness they provide for us, I still love them and hope I do them justice!

Love, defined:

When it had been only days of secret meetings and sealed lips, Caroline had begun to wonder. 

Setting aside her corset and pulling on her nightdress, Caroline Penvenen sighed as she fell back onto her silk sheets. It had been a long, rather boring day, yet she found herself yawning despite the lack of activity. 

Closing her eyes, she leaned back onto the soft pillows of her bed sighed deeply. In moments like these, her mind always drifted off to Dwight. Suddenly, she laughed as she was snapped out of her thoughts by the feeling of Horace's the rough, wet tongue like sandpaper all over her face. Pulling him off her and holding his fat little body in the air, she peered into his small golden face.  
"I'm going to see Dwight again tomorrow, as you know... I miss him terribly already," she whispered fervently, looking into her dear pet's jet black eyes. "But we can't tell Uncle Ray since he is decidedly against the idea of us being together in any sense."  
Caroline was not the best at keeping quiet most of the time. She decided, looking back, that certainly the hardest resistance was not telling her uncle of her relationship with his doctor, yet her wits played her as no fool and she knew eventually he began suspecting something. 

Despite the coyness that she displayed outwardly, she had found, in all her searching for a name for the torrent of emotions that she had been experiencing recently, that all she wanted through this strife and stress was to be able to live with her dear miracle worker, quiet and far away from all the problems they faced. 

Her only confidante in this matter, however, was Horace, and she often found her dog providing her with a way to waste away the days until she next saw him again, or even supplying excuses when necessary. Her life at Killewarren had taken upon a far more mundane feel after she met him, their meetings seeming to be the only thing that felt real anymore. She could not say that she did not enjoy her fanciful whims, yet she had to admit that her and Dwight, together, had a certain gravity to it provided by nothing else. Love had made her soft, and it was now somehow harder than ever to keep up her nonchalant act around everyone in her life, yet she still trusted for certain that her change in character had not been noticed by others. She was far too practised in the art of putting up her mask to let it crack now. br />

Was that what this was? She had no doubt that she loved Dwight, and no doubt in his feelings either -as he made sure to remind her so often- yet the storybooks that surrounded her growing up told a much less problematic definition of love, and many fewer obstacles stood in front of romance.  
How indefinable could one word be?

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Lying back on her crisp, clean sheets in London, Caroline could almost talk herself into the belief that she had never visited Cornwall. Almost. Most days, though, just as she would try to cap the bottle of memories and time she had spent there, a certain doctor, with eyes blue like the sky over the sea, haunted her mind. 

To know that he was just a few miles away on the coast, was almost unbearable to endure. Her mind was plagued by thoughts of Dwight. She tried to forget- the colour of his eyes or the way he smiled, but to no avail. Her stubbornness and pride, however, somewhat prevented her from any forgiveness toward him. It was like her mind was in constant paradox. 

Sympathy? Deep in her heart, she knew that she still longed for their secret woodland meetings. Of course, she was tormented, yet further- of course, if he were to walk into her bedroom that very minute, she would still be furious and wish to slap him. Her stubborn streak did not fail her.  
Thus, this torment, this stormy state of being continued for months, bitter frost holding her brain captive from moving on.  
Until the first letter arrived.  
It was somewhat reminiscent of the first time she left him for the city, just before she turned twenty-one. It seemed like an age ago, them so much younger, so much more hopeful, and she yearned for the older days almost as much as she yearned for him. They exchanged a few letters back and forth until she could stand it no longer. She read them in his voice, and each word was like another dagger to the heart, leaving her bleeding and broken. 

This attachment must stop, in her Uncle's words, for both of their benefits, and so she took action and told him, with aching heart, to never write to her again.  


Was this it, love? The love break and heartache and tears. Her romance in shreds, numb with no heart to love another. She begged for the past to stay, but for now, she would just have to weather the future.  
How indefinable could one word be?

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Caroline found herself alone with her thoughts once again. It was a regular occurrence for her now, regretfully, yet still a terrible situation. Heart aching with the pain of reminiscence, of old wounds, reopening, an old longing filled her as she thought of her dear doctor, the void washing over her with familiar arms like a wave. Her days were busy enough, spent walking with Demelza, tending to the garden and reading, tea in hand. Some days, the house felt too big for just her and Horace, but she often she just pushed it down with self-reassurance of her husband's return. Soon. She told herself. Soon.  
Her nights at Killewarren, however, were another tale. The feelings of loneliness, of how ostracised she now was ate away at her very soul.  
"What do you think Dwight is up to in this moment Horace?" She would turn to her dog and smile a sad smile. "I worry for him so awfully." He was the only living thing that could listen to her any more. Then, she would take out the last letter he had sent from across the channel, and read it again until she felt sleepy enough to fall into that unconscious oblivion. A sad cycle, for she did never see herself as a woman dependent on a man. It was not dependence they shared however, she thought. It was a mutual respect and understanding, and yet she still held a small doubt in her battered heart. Of course, they were in love, but how could this torment really define love itself? />

Is this love? She would wonder as she woke. Waiting, living out endless days, anticipating anxiously the return of the only man she was sure could ever feel these feelings for. Romance was a struggle, yet she knew in her heart that the day Dwight returned, she would finally be satisfied, satiated. Her heart no longer smothered, with a void in the shape of Dwight haunting her soul and deteriorating her mind. Love, she supposed, was a dangerous business, yet somewhat innocent and pure.  
How indefinable could one word be?

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

They lay, sprawled across their bed, content in the amiable and loving company as the sun set over the cliffs and sea of Cornwall, casting an enchanting glow over the sky with its red streaks and yellow hues. The view stretching before them and through the window was beautiful, and as the sky quickly darkened the solitary candle flickering on the bedside table cast prominent dark shadows onto the creamy bedchamber wall.  


In no more than a few weeks, Caroline was to be married to a man already her husband, yet immensely looked forward to being able to proudly, and publicly, identify herself as Caroline Enys. What she looked forward to in higher capacity, however, was the next day, as it marked a new chapter of her life. Of theirs.  


For the past few weeks, Caroline had been anxious and jittery, a rarity for her. All who knew them truly trusted that since she had met Dwight Enys, every twist and turn in life seemed a challenge her social facade could not face; and sharing her life with a man who knew her more than anyone who walked the Earth at that present time was the top of the anthill. Just as he returned, she was faced with this challenge, and in her efforts to appreciate him, as she had wished to do so often in his absence, she only succeeded in driving an emotional void between them that was even bigger than the physical ones of the past. The effects the war had on Dwight were undeniable, but she had only recently realised that she had unintentionally ignored all signs of trauma and felt guilty for her now apparent obnoxious actions. 

That day, he had confessed his trauma over the matter of war to her, and she had been so relieved in the moment that it had not been solely stemmed from a newfound dislike of her, that she had ignored her reflections on her own actions in recent times until when the house had grown quiet and she had the time to think. She then went to him, and in a similar fashion to him, confessed her feelings of guilt, to which he kissed her and told her all was resolved between them, and that they were now free to forget the past and face the future together. 

Caroline had felt that a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders, and so now they lay, more intimate and understanding of each other than ever, safe from all the world in each other's arms.  
"This is precisely what I have missed for so long." A gentle, deep voice broke the companionable silence, and she looked up at him from where her head lay, angled toward the window, on his chest.  
"A domestic life with each other has been both our solitary wishes for at least a year and a half now, I am sure," she replied softly, with her trademark confidence and certainty in her knowledge of him lacing her voice. He hummed in agreement. After another quiet moment, he spoke again, and she remained silent as he talked.  
"This content, to be with you, is all I dreamed of when I was in France. I think that you were the only thing that kept my will to live intact while I was... Away." She met his eyes in earnest and fresh understanding, his sky blue gaze clouded with painful memory and emotion, clearing slightly s their eyes met, before he looked back up to the ceiling, his fingers grazing her silky curls.  
"It felt like hell on Earth, but I thought of you, and your hair and your eyes. Then I knew, that I somehow just needed to make it back here."  
"You frequented my thoughts also," choosing her words carefully, she opted for the honest, emotional response that he had provided her with, telling of her experiences while he was in France.  
"I missed you terribly, and it only became worse after Uncle Ray died. I do not compare my emotional suffering to yours, yet I felt so lonely and Killewarren so vast and empty with nobody to share it with but Horace. I thought of you every day and dreamed of you every night." She looked up at him again, "I digress, for I have told you this before, yet after the strife and battles we have fought to earn the right to be publicly man and wife, I feel that we are owed this domestic bliss."  
At this, he kissed her in agreement, and what was not said in that moment was now conveyed between them.  
To her, the word love was defined in that moment.


	2. Through the Eyes of A Soldier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few stages in Caroline and Dwight's relationship told though the eyes of Hugh Armitage. Reminiscent of chapter one, yet shorter and more of a missing moment/ new perspective type of thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new chapter the next day! I hope you enjoy this new one shot and thank you to the people who have left me kudos already! The locket is mentioned vaguely as being given to Dwight by Caroline in The Black Moon, so I thought I could expand on it as a dramatic device.

It had been a mere hour since Dwight had looked up to see his dear friend Ross Poldark standing over him in the hell he had been trapped in for months, and it still felt like a dream in respect. The boat swayed around him and he stared at the locket in his hands. It was all, he thought in that moment, a little too overwhelming emotionally to think that he was now on his way home; and even more so to imagine he would be seeing Caroline again so soon.

He sat, numb and sore in a sorry state on the bunk, immersed in his own thoughts and trance-like in the ship that Ross had sailed over to the coast in his daring rescue. Hugh Armitage sat across from him -as he had often done in the camp- eyes fixed on the wooden floor and no doubt at sea in his own thoughts as well- as Dwight let thoughts and memories of his wife wash over him as a form of release from his poisoned mind in that moment, cupping in his hands the only thing he had managed to salvage from the ship as it was torn to pieces and somewhat miraculously also able to keep from the French soldiers all that time he had spent away from home. Home. What a joyful prospect that was. Her locket was a little rusted from exposure to water, yet the purple ribbon attached stayed somehow still intact, if not a little frayed, and he cradled the metal and let the silky fabric trickle through his shaking, filthy hands like holy water, cleansing. 

“If you don't mind me asking, what is that?”  
At the sudden break in the reverent silence, Dwight's bright, blue eyes looked up to meet the intense brown of his partner on the opposite bed.  
“My… My Locket,” his mind was screaming at him, for he had felt after all their time in the camp he could trust Hugh, yet he did not know what his reaction would be if he was told of his secret meetings and hasty elopement with Caroline, and he considered the consequences.  
Hugh looked at him expectantly, waiting for an explanation. The fair-haired doctor took a deep breath. Why not?  
“Do you recall when you asked me if I had anyone waiting for me at home?” The man opposite him nodded his head solemnly. After another bout of silence, he blinked a few times and bit his lip.  
“I did not confess then, but what I confess now is that I have found much a comrade in you. I did not betray a word, for Caroline because she and I married in secret, but I trust you enough now to place my faith in that you will not betray my secrets.” He paused.  
“I thought of her enough.” He smiled a wise, sad smile at Hugh, who remained silent quiet consideration.  
“I have a wife, as I said. She was an heiress with thousands of pounds to her name. Her Uncle was the only family she had, and he had his heart set on her marrying another of the rich men of her class. When he found out about our secret love and meetings, he was angered, and after many misunderstandings and complications, we finally were reunited, just before I set off to sea. It was terribly bittersweet, in all honesty.” Hugh smiled at the man opposite him. He felt that if anyone deserved love it was him.  
“I miss her endlessly,” he muttered, lost in his own thoughts, “with months apart all I can think of is how beautiful she... Is. This locket," he held it up gently to display to the other, “is one she gave me to always remember her by, and one of the sole reasons I was alive when Ross found us.” 

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Hugh admitted that the prospect of meeting this woman that Dr. Enys had spoken so often about on their journey home was exciting, to say the least. When talking of her, he had looked more alive than Hugh had ever seen the poor man. Nevertheless, he was also delighted to see his friend once again, yet under the circumstances that Dwight had returned with severe memories to haunt him and guilt enough to plague his new married life, it was hardly a matter of discussion to look forward to. 

As he entered the large, beautiful house with its stained glass windows and blooming garden, was filled with both an anxious trepidation and a delightful anticipation. When he entered, with Mr. Ross Poldark striding slightly ahead, he felt as though he had perhaps walked into a painting. Hugh was met by the sight of a graceful parlour with a handsome and equally graceful woman crouched by the elegant fireplace, her cream skirts pooling beautiful and almost like liquid around her with a somewhat desperate look on her face. She looked up at the visitors standing there with a fearful, confused look swimming in her light eyes and a single question on her lips.  
“What is happening to my husband?"

So this is the renowned Caroline Enys, he thought. She proceeded her reputation, and yet immediately, he saw that Dwight's pure, undying love for her was not at all one-sided, and just as equally vibrant on both sides of their relationship. That was where her concern stemmed. 

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

The bride and groom had hardly separated all night, and all their guests were wholesomely endeared by their mannerisms as they had full, quiet knowledge of how long they had been separated. Lieutenant Armitage was glad that he was able to aid and add to their current content in life and for each other. He could see in their eyes as they looked at each other, that they had missed this closeness and just their shared presence. They had waited for the day they can call themselves husband and wife for an impossibly long time. Oh, there would be struggles aplenty to come- but they would be together in the least. His hope lie for the future. He hoped, in that moment, that perhaps someday he could find someone who meant what Caroline did to Dwight, and Dwight to her in equal measure. 


	3. The Beginning of the Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caroline returns to Killewarren after months away in London. Follows the the plot of The Angry Tide- so BIG spoilers for season 4 if you haven't read the books!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This new chapter is a missing moment during The Angry Tide, so holds huge spoilers if you just want to skip right past this chapter. It's a little more melancholy, but overall has a fairly positive overview. Enjoy. -Oh, and also don't be scared by the username change! I did use to be Ihatemotions i just changed it :)

Casting his pale blue gaze on the far horizon, Dr. Dwight Enys noted how the candlelight spilling from the windows of Truro was vastly reminiscent of flames licking the dark blue expanse of the sky. Sunset had passed, yet the colours projected from Truro now caused it to almost linger, picturesque. He lacked appreciation for this scenery in that moment, however, as his mind was at sea with uncharacteristic impatience and anticipation. 

With a blink, he turned away from the bedroom window at Killewarren acting as a gateway to this enchanting view. His eyes flitted nervously to the grandfather clock stationed in the corner- only to find that the achingly slow passing minutes had only whittled away by ten in his feeble attempts to pass the time. He could almost envision humorously how Caroline would laugh at him if she could see him at this minute- waiting alone with nothing better to do but wait dutifully for her return- almost likened to Horace. 

In his noble selflessness, that Caroline had so often chided him for, he had suffered in silence to all- with the exception of Ross and Demelza- while she was away, and his happiness seemed to rely solely on her weekly letters incredibly. Yes, he would have considered that he was rather like a dutiful dog awaiting the return of his mistress, but in that moment his mind had reached its capacity as all the waiting that had eaten away at him these last few months came to a crescendo of joyful anxieties. 

The next painful twenty minutes seemed daunting, and so Dwight picked up the cream coloured, neatly folded letter lying on the bed behind him and unfolded it for what felt like the hundredth time that day. His eyes caressed the elegant and familiar script, skimming over the detailed stories that made up the first page. 

_italic I admit only to you that through these last few months I have missed you at an increasing rate both emotionally, mentally and- physically. My maid must be rejoicing at the news of my return- she will finally hear the end to my ranting!_

He blushed a little and laughs at the line that his eye has caught.

_italic On a more serious note, I had come here to rid myself of the demons of grief as you well know, and now in this letter wish to tell you of the conclusion I have drawn before I leave for Cornwall and see you again. I have come to the conclusion that, though I am much recovered, as I am sure are you, separation can do us no more good and we must put the matter that plagues us to rest and move on together. I feel that we need to put the past to rest together.  
There you have it, when it comes to emotional expression, writing has always come more fluently to me than speech, so I hope that you can forgive me for discussing such matters as this is only a letter, and undoubtedly discussing them better than I will in our inevitable future conversation about such. _

__

On the brighter side, since I am sat here in the parlour with my aunt just across from me and do not wish to be caught crying over my letters like some hysterical madwoman, know also that once I do return I fully expect, upon my return, plenty of kisses to make up for the lack thereof these last few months, and as much time as possible this coming week spent alone together. I look forward to my return with enthusiasm.  
\- Anticipating my seeing you again, Your loving wife,  
Caroline Enys 

He had read the letter, all the letters up to now, in her voice, and it almost had simulated her presence. One too many times recently he had looked up and contemplated how her vivacious yet wise manner brought so much life to Killewarren that the halls had seemed so incredibly empty without her. 

Reminding himself of her return later that day, Dwight shook his head of these thoughts, slipped the letter back into its envelope and descended the dimly lit staircase, placing it by a flickering candle calmly until the approaching sound of crunching gravel jolted his heart and his head snapped up. 

Home.

Eagerly, Dwight walked to the door. He couldn't help but smile at the sound of her thanking the coachman, and ran a hand through his fair caramel hair as he pushed the door open. Stepping out into the cool night air, he grinned at the sight he had yearned for so dearly over the last few weeks. 

As the coachman cast a nod in her direction and lead the horses away towards of the stables, Caroline turned to look at him and smiled, eyes flashing with the light that caught the right side of her face from the grand front windows. They were alone now, and her glossy curls glinted with the bright beams cast down on her. Dwight let relief and an odd feeling of homeliness wash over him.  
“Well, Dr. Enys, I kept my promise.” Coy remarks were fully expected by Dwight, after all, Caroline was Caroline, but he also knew that would not have wished it to be any other way. “I do wonder if you will be willing to heed your side of the bargain.” She walked hastily toward him and he noted that six years of marriage to him had softened her kittenish ways. One sly comment would hardly have been enough for her all but a few years ago.  
“Caroline!” The woman in question broke into a brilliant grin before throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him, receiving equal fervour in return. 

Dwight had missed this. Oh, how he had missed this. Caroline's red lips soft against his and her long fingers running through his hair. He placed one hand on her cheek and the other on her waist, drawing her closer. A newfound appreciation rose within them both for this domesticity, realising how much even the everyday kisses he had ached for in her absence.

“Shall we go inside?” They broke apart with a small content laugh on her part before retreating back into the large, warm house.  
There would be hardship to come, plenty surely, but together, they would overcome it. This moment was the beginning of their future.


	4. Goodnight, Caroline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minor spoilers for the future I guess, but not really. Just a cute little Father-Daughter/Family chapter. Enjoy!

“Papa?”  
Dwight Enys blinked his bleary, sleep-induced eyes, the familiar sight of his bedroom blurring into view. It was still bathed in darkness, stars bright white in the sky out the small window and the moon casting thin bright beams across parts of the carpeted floor. Wondering what could have woken him up at such an ungodly hour, he shifted, looking up at where his wife’s sleeping form lie just inches away, her face peaceful in sleep. He smiled, resisting the urge to brush a lock of her long, curling hair from where it fell in a single ringlet over her closed eyes out of fear it would wake her.

“Papa?” Sitting up slowly, gently despite being a little startled initially at the sudden break in the night's silence, Dwight looked to the foot of the bed, where he was met with the sight of his pretty, small daughter looking up at him with bright blue eyes wide and caramel hair falling gently in natural waves down her shoulders.  
“Sophie!” He whispered softly in surprise, his heart aching at the sight of her looking so innocently distraught in the way children do. “Whatever's the matter?” 

“Papa, I-I just woke up. I had a horrible nightmare!” Her eyes widened even more and she looked as if she was on the brink of tears, twisting her stuffed cat toy she had received from Ross and Demelza last Christmas in her hands nervously. Making a beckoning gesture with his hand and shuffling across gently, Dwight smiled faintly. Despite the fact that she had inherited her colouring very much from him, Sophie often reminded him so much of her mother. From her eloquent speech for her age to the way she fiddled with whatever was in her hands at the time as her only outlet of nervous energy, her personality and mannerisms just echoed Caroline in every way.

She tiptoed over, and he lifted her onto the bed, placing her softly on the quilt.  
“Would you like to talk about it- about what happened in this dream?” She shook her head vigorously, and he smiled in understanding.  
“It was quite frightening walking through the dark halls here from my chambers anyways! I looked outside and I thought -it must be very late- as the stars are out and the sky is black. I did try to get back to sleep, but- I couldn't shake the bad feeling I had, so I came here and -I’m sorry I woke you up,” she whispered extensively, slightly out of breath from her little speech that she had obviously practiced in her head over and over again on her walk down the carpeted halls of Killewarren. Once again, it struck him again how her nature was so akin to her mother it was almost laughable.

“Don't worry, I understand how you feel,” he paused to quickly press a kiss to her temple. “If that’s the case, would you like to sleep in here with me and mama?” Sophie smiled and nodded as he gently brushed a half-formed tear from the corner of her eye.  
“Yes, please...” She paused and they quietly shuffled back under the covers, with her back to her mother, wedged in between her parents. She hesitated. “I… may tell you tomorrow, when you get back from seeing your patients.” He nodded and smiled.  
“As you wish.”

There was silence for a minute or so, and Dwight thought that Sophie had fallen asleep -as she was possibly the fastest person at falling asleep he knew- and closed his eyes for only about thirty seconds before she spoke again.  
“Papa, what did you mean when you said you understood?” He opened his eyes. How to word the worst parts of his past delicately to his daughter had never crossed his mind before. Quick mind suddenly awake, he bit his lip.

“Do you remember when mama told you about how she met me?” Sophie’s eyes seemed to light up, and she grinned, her whole body illuminated blue in the darkness.  
“Why of course I do! When mama told us, she jested and wrinkled her nose! She claimed it was too romantic for her tastes, even though half of the story was about her. I thought it was lovely.” Sophie's enthusiastic romanticism was an endearing characteristic.  
“I'm glad you enjoyed it, but do you recall the part where I was in the navy, and got locked up by the French before uncle Ross came over to bring me back?” Sophie nodded.  
“Well, when I came back after the year,” he hesitated, unsure of his words. “Returning to my life in Cornwall seemed... Strange. It seemed almost surreal, and though I was of course undyingly grateful to be returned to your mama, and all our friends, I still felt almost as if I hadn't come home yet, because my experience in France was so terribly... Numbing.” 

Dwight’s eyes had drifted to the wall. In retrospect- he had moved on as best he could. Quimper had left a mark on him despite how he had improved since the darker days, but he had come to accept this as a part of him. His past shaped him, and if there was anything good that came out of Quimper, it was his current appreciation for what he had, and how it had spurred on his already empathetic nature to do more good for the world. Still, talking of his experiences often drew him into a misty-eyed nostalgic haze.

Blinking himself quickly out of his trance, Dwight looked at his daughter- who promptly threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly as her slim seven-year-old arms could. Taken aback slightly, he instinctively wrapped his arms around her.  
“I'm so sorry, papa…” Her voice was muffled from where she had buried her face in his nightshirt.  
“Oh, Sophie.” He smiled a reminiscent smile. “Don't fret, my love. It's been a long time since then, and I'm happier now than I ever have been.” He humorously realised then that the whispers they had been speaking in had evolved into usual talking, and looked across at the woman before him, whose eyes now glittered green with the smile of a proud mother. He was unsure of how long she'd been awake, but from the smile on her face, it looked like long enough. Sophie pulled away, eyebrows furrowed in concern.  
“Promise me?”  
“I promise. The only reason that I mention it is because I used to have nightmares too, but whenever I did, your mama would stroke my hair, and we’d just talk and talk until we fell asleep again,” Sophie smiled, and Dwight ran his fingers through her hair. “Isn’t that right, Caroline?” 

“Mama!” Sophie exclaimed, rolling over quickly while Caroline laughed quietly and received her daughter with open arms.  
“It’s true, but I'm glad your nightmares are over,” she let a content smile rest on her lips whilst over Sophie's shoulder giving her husband a look that showed how truly glad she was that those sleepless nights of tossing and turning were gone. She then turned her milky forest-green gaze to Sophie once again.  
“Do you think you'll be able to get some sleep now? I hate to ruin this touching moment, but from the look of things outside, I assume that it's quite late.”  
With a kiss to the forehead from both her parents, Sophie nodded, and released her mother, settling down into the soft silk sheets and closing her long, dusty-lashed eyes.

She was obviously exhausted, as only about two minutes later her breathing levelled out to be soft and shallow.  
“Goodnight, my love,” Dwight smiled, letting himself sink down into the mattress once more and closing his eyes.  
“Which one of us are you talking too?” Caroline jested, and he could hear that she was smirking a little through only her words- even though she spoke under her breath.  
“Both of you,” He opened his eyes and flashed her a grin.  
“In that case,” she sat up and leaned over Sophie, pressing a kiss to his cheek then withdrawing quickly before he could react. “Goodnight from both of us in return. I speak on Sophie's behalf as she is unfortunately detained at this present moment.” Coincidentally, the sleeping girl in question at that moment gave a soft, quiet snore as she stirred a little. Clasping his hand over his mouth to prevent too much noise, Dwight laughed breathily, and he could see Caroline doing much the same, biting her lip.

A smile residing on both their faces after their fit of laughter, he turned onto his side, looking into her eyes with mirth.  
“I love you,”  
“I love you too,” she dropped her smile and raised her eyebrows again definitively. “Now, goodnight!” He grinned and she closed her eyes before he did the same.  
“Goodnight, Caroline.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos to all who got 'The Princess Bride' reference in there! Thanks for reading.


	5. France

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I promise that next chapter will be centered around the TV show canon so far, because recently all the new chaptered have been little things from where I am in the books. 
> 
> Anyways, this is just a little reunion fic (I'm starting to think I have a knack for those) set once again during the ten year break between The Angry Tide and The Stranger from the Sea. Contains spoilers for Season 4- so skip this chapter (again- sorry!) If you don't wish to spoil it for yourself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote that this fic begins with is from The Loving Cup, and inspired me to write this cute little ficlet. 
> 
> For anyone who hasn't read the books but wishes to read this anyway, here's a little explanation for some elements of this fic:  
> -Jane Gimlett: in the books, Jud and Prudie are dismissed toward the beginning after they start spreading rumours about Jinny Carter. They are replaced by a couple named the Gimletts, and Jane effectively becomes the housekeeper at Nampara.  
> -Sarah: *HUGE SPOILER WARNING* Sarah Enys was Dwight and Caroline's first daughter, who died very young as a result of being born with a heart defect. 
> 
> Now that's over and done with, enjoy!

“‘I don't believe Napoleon would go back on his word.’ (Dwight)  
‘Don't forget the end of the Treaty of Amiens,’ Caroline said. ‘Ten thousand British tourists interned as prisoners of war. Yourself and Ross escaping back across the channel by the skin of your teeth. And me alone in this house carrying Sophie!’” 

It felt odd, Demelza Poldark considered. She glanced over at her friend, to just he how her pretty face was contorted in worry. If it had been anyone but Caroline Enys sitting opposite her in the parlour of Nampara, she wouldn't have had such concern bubbling up inside of her. She studied the furrowed eyebrows and the way that Caroline's turquoise eyes reflected the fire that she was staring at intensely in her inner turmoil. It occurred to her that she had never seen her in this state before, and may never again.

Ever since she had met Caroline, Demelza had noted what a perfect poker face she had. She was able to do something Demelza found fascinating in her inability to replicate; she could conceal her emotions perfectly. However -despite the fact that she tried her utmost to appear otherwise- Caroline was human, and so the unique combination that made this very unfortunate situation was one of the rare times that she broke her pristine conduct. This said combination stood as:  
-She trusted Demelza incredibly, despite her somewhat implicit expression of her affection.  
-Her husband was, for the second time in his life, lost somewhere off the coast of France and quite possibly a Prisoner of War once again, her close friend with him, who was also coincidentally Demelza’s husband in turn. This, of course, was bad for several reasons including the obvious, but also the previous trauma that he had suffered as a result of Quimper.  
-Finally, Caroline was presently five months pregnant with her second child, proceeding the first who had sadly passed away in infancy four years previously. 

“Caroline?” The woman opposite her snapped out of her intense stare to look at her close friend, her expression flickering back to docile in an instant. She was back to her amiable, level-headed self again. Demelza appraised and took comfort in the fact that Caroline had most probably only been this relaxed with her spotless social comportment in front of herself, Ross and, of course, Dwight. “Ross and Dwight… They're resilient. They both have military experience and can take care of themselves. I'm sure that they'll be home before we even know it.”  
She gave a weak, grateful smile in return.  
“Thank you, Demelza.” Uncertainty crept clearly back into her eyes as they flitted back to the fire. Demelza could feel the concern and anxiety rise in her chest like smoke again.

\-----------

Caroline was a logical thinker, and though she admired Demelza’s fidelitous, undying confidence in the two men's safety, she also found little solace in the other woman's words. She knew from experience that war was no cause for optimism, and no matter how much she tried to lull herself into a false sense of security, the memories she had just refused to stay out of mind. She thought of the endless months stuck in Killewarren, waiting for a fiancee that she had no news of, watching her closest family member -her mentor's- life slowly dissipate before her eyes. She couldn't be there now. The nostalgia-filled halls were almost too much to bare. 

The house much too big for just a woman and her dog. It wasn't until Uncle Ray died, before Dwight came, that she truly realised the magnitude of her home. She glanced down at her abdomen. It was true, she was anxious after Sarah, but truly, deeply, she was happy for the company. Another child would bring her comfort. The comfort of knowing that there was living proof of her and Dwight's love, something irreplaceable. This was something she struggled to admit even to herself. And now one horrible thought hung like a cloud over her consciousness. That their child may have to grow up without a father. She turned to her friend again, suddenly needing the social stimulation more than anything.

“Demelza, do you-”  
“Excuse me! Mistress Poldark, Mrs. Enys,” Jane Gimlett hurried in, interrupting Caroline. Upon seeing Jane's excitement and the letter grasped in her hand, Caroline's heart quickened in pace.  
“A letter, from Master Poldark!” Demelza’s eyes widened and she took the letter eagerly. Caroline's lips parted in anticipation as she watched her friend's eyes frantically scan the paper.  
“Well? Where are they?”  
Demelza looked up and grinned, walking forward to embrace her friend.  
“They're coming home! Just about escaped France, and are here!” Caroline released a breath that she felt that she had been holding for the last hellish week since she had learned of Napoleon’s turn on the English tourists in France. Home.  
“They're at Verity's home in Falmouth. Oh, how nostalgic this is, I am quite chilled!” Demelza laughed in relief. They breathed together for a second. Before straightening and standing up.  
“My dear, though I do agree, I dreadfully hope that my husband will be in far better of a shape than the time we reminisce, however.” Caroline mirrored the relieved smile, her coy and kittenish humour returning.  
“He invites us to join them,” Demelza glanced at the letter once more before meeting her friend's eyes again with inquiry in them. “Do you think you will be able to make the journey?” Caroline tutted.  
“Of course I will! I am hardly the most delicate woman, even in my current state. Besides, I need to inform my husband that he is now forbidden from stepping foot on French soil until the war is over.” Demelza looked unconvinced. Caroline arched an eyebrow and smiled. “I promise, I'll be just fine.” 

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

“Demelza, Caroline! Oh, my dears, it feels like it has been an age!” Verity pulled the two women into a tight in brace, in turn, kissing them on the cheeks.  
“Verity, I assure you that the feeling is very much mutual.” Caroline returned the shorter woman’s grin, who nodded.  
“Here, Dwight and Ross are upstairs.” Verity hurried to usher them to the steps, and Demelza glanced at her friend, who was following Verity with a small smile, obviously thinking of the day she had first seen this house, climbing the stairs- dripping wet with rainwater and eyes sparkling at the prospect of the future. 

The sound of muffled voices could be heard as they approached, and the heavy wooden door was opened. Ross was sat in an armchair by the fire, staring into it pensively as he listened to Dwight- who was standing, pacing the room as he talked. He froze when the two women entered, and both he and Ross’ heads snapped up at the sound of the door opening.  
“Caroline!” His eyes widened, and he grinned, crossing the room to her. Before Caroline could speak, he did something fairly out of character in company, muttering a quick ‘pardon me’ in Verity's direction before cupping his wife's face in his hands and kissing her. Demelza watched with a smile, laughter in her eyes as she turned to Ross.  
“Well, well, well.” Caroline raised her eyebrows pointedly when they broke apart. “It seems that France was begging for you to not abandon it again!" She looked at him, eyes sparkling with mirth. "Well, I am here to officially inform you that you are forbidden from returning there unless I am there to ensure Napoleon doesn't lock you up again. Once is one too many times to be stuck in a prison camp, and I've spent the last twenty-four hours fretting for your safety. It can't be healthy- especially in my condition.”  
“I would agree.” Dwight was looking at her, smiling. They both knew that he was initially hesitant to leave her and go to France, and that she had been the one who urged him to go. She could hear Demelza laughing from where she now sat, squeezed in next to Ross on the armchair. Her husband joined in presently, and soon they were all laughing, even Caroline. When the laughter had died down, Verity spoke from where she had been watching the scene unfold humorously by the doorway.  
“All of you should stay for supper,” she put up her hand as Ross began to shake his head. “No, none of that now, Ross.” She gave him a meaningful look. “It'd please me greatly after not having seen you in such a long time. And besides," she glanced around the room. "I feel this is cause for a small celebration."  
Caroline replied quickly, knowing what the others responses would be all too well.  
“We'd be delighted, Verity.” The brunette smiled thankfully at her.  
“Dinner it is”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone got The Crown reference then kudos to you ;)  
> Anyways, I hope you liked it! Please, let me know what you think in the comments :)
> 
> (Edit- I realised there were a few typos and bits I wanted to change up a bit, so don't be confused if you read again and see it is slightly different haha)


	6. Oh, The Weather Outside Is Frightful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a short little cute snippet involving a sick Caroline and snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! sorry it's been a while but Christmas was pretty busy for me, so I'm finally uploading a cute little sickfic which doesn't have much plot to it but is still pretty cute just as a quick chapter.

“I’ll bring it up to her,” Dwight Enys stepped from where he had been standing in the dining room and into the hall. He smiled at Bone, both his butler and old friend, taking the mahogany tray that he was holding into his own hands. On it was balanced a shining silver spoon, toasted bread roll and china bowl of soup, the steam from it rising softly into the cool air of the hallway. 

The Winter that year came with a bitter, biting cold. Frost was encrusted Killewarren and the wood surrounding it in translucent, blue-tinged swirls, creeping up the walls like ivy. It was December, and though there was a fire lit in all the large rooms of Killewarren, the corridors remained quite cold, unable to completely keep out the bitter chill. The frost was so crisp and raw that it hardened the ground, perfectly setting the scenery for snow to settle overnight, yet the people of Cornwall had little hope for a Winter wonderland as it had been decades since they had seen anything but sleet emerge from the clouds. If anything, the weather served as more of a nuisance than anything else, as along with the flurry of winter came a terrible bout of influenza within the small seaside community.

Ross and Demelza Poldark had just left Killewarren after quite the pleasant late lunch with their close friend, Dwight Enys. Unfortunately, the company was missing a certain tall aqua-marine eyed woman.

For the last week, Caroline had been stuck in bed with a vicious bout of influenza. It was unpleasant, but hardly deadly, and both she and her husband knew as much but -with his ‘serious doctoring face’ as Caroline so fondly put it- he had restricted her to bed. She was reluctant, as always, yet agreed on the sole condition that he would spend as much of his free time as possible keeping her company while she was stuck in bed. Her husband swore that he would never have it any other way.

“Caroline?” Pushing open the heavy oak door, Dwight entered the bedroom that he shared with his wife, smiling to be received with the sight of her sitting up in bed reading a book. Her keen, bright turquoise gaze quickly snapped up from the page that captivated her enchantment at the sound of the door creaking.  
"Hello."  
Walking into the room, he balanced the tray on the chair by the dressing table and sat gently by her on the bed.  
“How do you feel? Warmer? Colder?” Caroline folded the page she was on and placed it next to her on the bed.  
“In all honesty, I'm absolutely famished.” Her lips were curved upward in a small smile, and playfulness shone in her eyes. He raised his eyebrows, though a small smile rested on his lips too.  
“Very funny." Nevertheless, he picked back up the tray as she placed her small silver stand on the bed, and he handed her the tray. Ever the lady despite her hunger, Caroline elegantly proceeded to take the spoon and stir her soup before beginning to eat it delicately yet with haste. Dwight watched as she managed to eat everything on the tray in a small matter of minutes while somehow maintaining her politeness. When she had finished, he took the tray again, placing it once more to the side.

“Honestly, now. How do you feel?” She smiled, delicately dropping napkin she was holding onto the tray.  
“I feel as if the worst of it is over. The fever as of two days late has dissipated, and now, I feel a little warm. That is, if anything.”  
“You look -and sound- better.” He gently placed one hand on the back of her head, and the other on her jaw. Some colour was beginning to return to her naturally fair skin, and the red tinge in her cheeks and nose had lessened greatly. She hummed in agreement.  
“Now, let me see your throat,” he took one look at the humour in her eyes and her smirk. “Yes, I am well aware of how this played out last time I came to examine your throat- almost ten years ago now.” She looked at him humorously.  
“Well, you can't blame me for noticing the parallels! You had your serious doctor face on, like you do now, and besides, you can't kiss me, just like back then. Granted, you could, but then you would get ill too and wouldn't be able to tend to your dear sick people. You could never allow that.” He laughed at both her indelicate coyness and the truth in what she said.  
“While what you say is true, my love, it does not change the fact that you are ill, and as both your doctor and your husband I must look after you.” He looked into her eyes with sincerity. “Now, please, open your mouth.” She yielded, and he almost expected her to play out the charade of years past in which she took to opening her mouth inch by inch just to tease him, but she simply opened her mouth plainly, and he saw that the redness in her throat that had been present for the past week or so had died down.

“Well,” he said, pulling his hand away from her chin to brush a lock of her hair away from her face and behind her ear. “It seems, Mrs. Enys, that you are beginning to recuperate your health. With a few more days of rest, warm meals and lots of fluids you should be back to a perfect state of well-being soon.” She smiled at him.  
“Thank you, Dr. Enys. I must say, thank the heavens! I cannot wait to finally be free of this cage that you call a bed. When I recover I may never sleep again.” They both laughed jovially, and in the moment he leaned over, placing a chaste kiss on her forehead before quickly pulling away before she could pull him close again.  
“Try to get some sleep, please.”  
“Where are you going?” She watched inquisitively as he stood.  
“Nowhere, I'm just going to change before retiring, to join you.” He blew out the candles balanced on the drawers and the dressing table, plunging the room into darkness. The only light was now the pale white light of the moon as it shone through the grey clouds settled over the navy sky. The stars had been engulfed by them. Caroline turned over to face the window.

There were small, fluffy white flakes drifting slowly through the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! Please let me know what you think, and the next chapter should be out really soon.


	7. Loyalty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a funny, cute little chapter. Slight mention of big spoilers for season 4/ The Angry Tide. Enjoy!
> 
> *Lilith is my own character*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm back with another chapter! I hope you enjoy it, as it's pretty long but should be a bit of a laugh even if some sad bits are hinted at along the way. A little character study too at the beginning. Enjoy!  
> (Last spoiler warning!)

Caroline Enys was, generally speaking, a good-humoured woman. Tall, strikingly handsome, yet possessing a sharp witty and coy intellect that seemed to scare many a man away despite her good looks.

Until six years ago, her carefully structured facade had served her well, laughing and cynical, held safe within her armour protecting her from the heartbreak that came with any genuine commitment. Later, once it had been broken down, she realised that in truth, she had been afraid. (but she would never admit that to anyone, let alone the man who broke it.) 

Caroline Penvenen? She would think to herself while many other women of the gentry whispered the same behind their fans.  
There's no chance on God's Earth that Caroline Penvenen could be happy in a marriage. Rich? Most certainly. Comfortable? Almost undeniably. But in love? Never!  
And so, the armour she had built successfully kept out heartbreak without fail, and seemed impenetrable to all. Despite this truth, it had one flaw that nobody would ever see -she was sure- and that was the fact that in keeping heartbreak out, it also banished love. It was far too late when she did realise this, and somehow she didn't mind it's existence so much, so from then on her mechanism, her mask, came into act -almost always subconsciously- casting out and isolating her in an incredibly safe, yet incredibly lonely way. 

It was not as though she could complain from where she stood presently, however, for this attitude had somehow miraculously led her to the one thing she thought she could never find in life. Something that, for a while, she had feared. Love. Mutual, caring love that was not only about physical pleasure but also a raw understanding of each other. She hadn't realised how much she ached for that until she discovered Dwight Enys.

Dwight, the only man to see her facade for the armour it was. The first person who took the time to get to know her for being herself. The only man to love her. Not for her money, not her title, not her facade and not (primarily at least) her body, but for simply being Caroline.

Now, after six years of marriage and many an obstacle conquered together, she had finally been able to drag him to London. Caroline had expressed a desire for him to join her on a visit for a long time, yet he had always been hesitant, conjuring all sorts of excuses until finally- he complied after she returned from her excursion following Sarah's passing, asking him to come back with her to her aunt's home.

Now they had arrived in glamorous new dress at Mrs. Pelham's gathering, sipping white wine and mingling amiably with the upper classes of London. Caroline was in her element, a shimmering jewel in her pale green gown and shining pearls. She drifted around the large candlelit hall gracefully, gliding from person to person, laughing and thriving incredibly in the environment she found herself rarely in back in Cornwall.

As it began to grow late and the sky outside darkened into an incredible blue, the noise in the hall quieted a little. All the guests had dined, and everyone seemed pleased with the evening as they chatted amiably to each other. Caroline sipped her water. She had no wish to become intoxicated that night, and -as out of character as it was- took the responsible decision after her fifth glass of wine. Ross and Demelza had already taken their leave- and so she was beginning to find herself a little bored, as the night slowed and guests began to leave, she glanced searchingly over the hall, finding herself wondering where on Earth her husband could have gotten to in the hour since she had last spoken to him. 

Finally, she caught sight of him laughing and talking to young, pretty woman in a pale pinkish dress. She was only a few years younger than herself, with long, dark hair and wide brown eyes. Smiling, Caroline watched as he seemed to -against all odds- enjoy himself. 

Her smile dropped, however, when the young woman stepped far too close than was publicly deemed polite and slid her hand down his left arm as she talked, batting her eyelashes with the other hand resting on her chest.

Caroline did not get jealous easily. She had a particular talent for remaining calm in trying times, and talking excessively had even become a defence mechanism for her. However, this little gesture had caused envy to bubble in her veins and annoyance to settle over her. More than upset, she was angry, yet she checked herself and took a deep breath. 

Dwight, being the man he was, was trying to see her flirtatious advancements as friendliness, yet Caroline could see the young woman's motives clearly and wasted no time beating around the bush. She knew how intelligent her husband was, and admired his faith in humanity that she had to admit she lacked. He was one for second chances and ‘the benefit of the doubt’. This coupled with the fact that his anti-social tendencies meant that his expertise did not extend far into general human courtesies meant that he would not be one call this woman out on her behaviour. 

Watching closely still, she frowned as the curly-haired girl laughed at some comment he made and stepped closer once again, smiling and looking up at the doctor before her with doe-like wide eyes. Caroline raised an eyebrow disbelievingly. The impertinence of some people surprised even her sometimes. Decidedly, she gently fingered her necklace and straightened her posture. If her husband wasn't going to do anything, she would have to.

“Dwight, there you are! I was beginning to think that you'd finally escaped my clutches and hurried back to Cornwall.” She grinned brilliantly as the man in question turned and looked at her with a soft smile on his lips and warmth in his eyes.

“Caroline!” The dark-eyed woman looked suspicious and even perhaps a little scared at the sheer vivacity of the tall, fair-skinned woman walking elegantly towards them, and in contrast Dwight looked almost relieved. Caroline considered that perhaps he was, despite her take on the situation, beginning to feel a little uncomfortable. Reading the other female perfectly, Caroline took her husband's arm and turned to the woman in front of them, smiling a cold smile. “This is Miss Lilith Bradshaw -the daughter of Dr. Bradshaw- who I actually have has quite the amount of interesting conversations with on many occasions.” He turned to Lilith. “Miss Bradshaw, this is my wife, Caroline.” Lilith’s eyes flashed with a subtle malice at this introduction, and the two ladies curtsied perfectly to each other in turn with mirrored ingenuine polite smiles.

“Good evening,” Caroline looked at Lilith through her long, dusty eyelashes. Her blue-green eyes conveyed nothing but icy, perfectly feigned friendliness. “It's lovely to meet you, considering that my husband speaks so highly of your father's work.” Dwight smiled at this.  
“Oh, I am sure that the Bradshaw family must find me tiresome in my endless gratitude by now.” The two women laughed short, quipped laughter and Dwight shifted his feet at the clear tension he could feel between them. Lilith cleared her throat. Caroline could feel her competitive streak flare for prospect of this game that was already rigged in her favour.

“I've been talking to your husband, and he confirmed what I'd heard from so many, including yourself just now- that you've come all the way from Cornwall to visit. I trust that you're quite enjoying yourself here?”  
“Yes, we have, though I am a Londoner by birth. It has been quite odd returning- how the city changes in only a few years is, to be frank, quite astounding.” Lilith nodded in agreement, smiling with a small hum of agreement. 

The conversation quieted for a moment.

Dwight Enys was in a dilemma. His instinct was strewn somewhat between laughing and hiding desperately under the table. He glanced between the woman he had been talking to for the last twenty minutes or so and his wife. Their conversation was too polite, almost interrogative. The tension was clear between them, and though he had tried to ignore it, he had to admit at least to himself the unwanted attentions that Lilith was paying him. He also would, willingly, admit that Caroline was not the type to stand idly by while such attentions we are being paid.

“How has your evening been, Lilith? I apologise that I haven't asked before.” Caroline flashed her pearly white teeth at the brunette. “It is, after all, only my duty as the hostess’ niece.”  
“It has been pleasant, thank you,” she smiled in return. “In fact, many thanks to Dr. Enys, who has so kindly preoccupied me for the last half hour and is almost the entire reason for my enjoyment of tonight.” Caroline watched as Lilith turned to look at Dwight with wide eyes and a self-satisfied smile.  
“In fact,” she continued, “your husband just commented how greatly he admires the gowns tonight.” The venomous enthusiasm shone in her dark eyes and Caroline glanced over at her husband sharply, and was met with the sight of her husband looking at the other woman with what was almost a look of betrayal, light pink dusting his cheeks in a faint blush that only she could recognise as the display of embarrassment it was.  
“They do all look lovely- don't you agree?” Caroline blinked at Lilith, still reeling from the obvious and girlish stab that she had made at her.

“Yes… Everyone here looks positively delightful, men and women alike,” she smiled with all the pleasantry she could muster. A rather tense silence ensued for a little while before -thankfully- another party broke it from across the room where the diminishing number of guests were standing by the doorway with Caroline's aunt, growing smaller by the minute.  
“Lilith, it is getting rather late,” Mrs. Bradshaw smiled brightly, sending a polite nod in her daughter's company's direction. “Your father and I were thinking of returning home.” Lilith nodded at her mother then curtsied at the two before her.  
“Please, tell Mrs. Pelham that I am greatly gratified for you having me here tonight.” She straightened up and smiled at Dwight a final time. “I do hope to see you again soon, Dr. Enys… Mrs. Enys.” She turned and sauntered toward her parents, who were standing by the large doorway.

Dwight and Caroline watched as the last few guests left then shared a meaningful look. Before they could speak, however, Ms. Pelham was approaching them from where she had been bidding goodbye to the guests.  
“Caroline, my dear,” she smiled her small yet warm smile as she neared, glancing at both of them. “I do hope that you have both enjoyed yourself tonight.” Caroline mirrored her aunt's smile, taking her hand.  
“Oh, believe me, I have, but I must say that tonight and the hustle of today has truly left me exhausted. I think that I'll retire now.” She sighed quietly with a content smile on her lips. “Wouldn't you agree, Dwight? I have forgotten how different London life is from the quiet one we lead back in Cornwall.” She let out a small laugh.  
“Oh, yes,” Dwight said, smiling. “London life is quite different, and far more tiring than our quiet Cornish seaside one, what with all the variety of parties and things to do around the city. I believe that it has left us both quite tired.” His aunt-in-law nodded understandingly.  
“In that case, I'll go up with you. It is reaching quite the late hour.”

They walked up the stairs together, before bidding each other goodnight when they reached the third floor and retreating into their respectful rooms. Caroline politely told her maid, that she was content undressing herself, and as soon as the door closed behind her, Caroline collapsed elegantly into a chair by the bed and pulled her at the ribbon on her heeled shoes angrily before kicking them off.

“Damned impudence! Some people have no common decency! I, as the hostesses niece, should at least expect this immature little girl to have the smallest amount of respect and not chase after my husband, prowling all over him like a hungry little kitten all night!” She could hear Dwight laugh and glanced up from where she stood; her hair unpinned in her angry haste, curls cascading down her shoulders and back and dress hanging open at the front, her closet showing through the gap in the fine green material. He looked at her as she looked back at him, bright eyes flashing, fierce and irritated from where she sat on the chair. He smiled, having already discarded his shoes and waistcoat.

“Caroline, you are one of the most intelligent people that I know. You know that Lilith posed no real threat. I am not the sort who has such poor fidelity- as many husbands do.” Caroline had turned back to her dress and removed the emerald outer layer, draping it carefully over the chair, left only in her corset, shift and stockings. She sat down again and looked up at where Dwight stood, closer to her, knowing fully well that she would have to ask her husband to unlace the back of it for her eventually.  
“Of course, I know that.” She said quietly, looking into his eyes. They both knew that the loss of Sarah was still a fresh wound in their shared lives, but they also both knew that time and love would heal their battered hearts. “I just hate when people take liberties as she did. Does she think so little of me? Oh, it is not insecurity that she has evoked, but simply offence. I distrust her, you know, not you.” Caroline sighed in irritation, receiving an empathetic smile in return.  
“I know.” Dwight bent to capture her cheek, then her lips in a chaste kiss, which she received happily before standing as he pulled her into a tight embrace.“I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it.


	8. Gratitude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caroline not-so-accidentally overhears Hugh Armitage confess something...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't as dramatic as the title or the summary suggests. It's actually quite light-hearted! This was meant to go up on Valentine's day but I was very busy... so better late than never, eh?

Disobedient? She had never particularly taken to the concept of obedience anyway. She always had a distaste towards the idea of being one of those women who did whatever a man told her to do, like so many of her acquaintances in London were, blindly obedient for fear of society. 

Chiefly, throughout her life, she had been her own mistress, even before she was twenty-one. Although her uncles were quite strict, they almost involuntarily doted on her as the only Penvenen heiress, and could only blame themselves when found it increasingly harder as she grew older to control her headstrong ways and how blatant she was in stating her wishes.

When Raymond Penvenen died, the only man left in Caroline's life technically connected to her was her husband, and Dwight Enys was anything but a controlling man. Finding themselves in a rare situation for their gentry of their time -being in love within their marriage- they, as often comes in the package of love, respected each other immensely.

So, when he asked her for ‘perhaps a little privacy’ -as he so quaintly put it- whilst he talked to Hugh Armitage about their experiences in Quimper, she had at once compiled. Loyally, for months she had been obedient, but curiosity was inevitably going to win over. Just this once, she told herself. Ten minutes, just this once.

Creeping down the stairs, her low heeled shoes hung from her long, delicate fingers. She had taken them off so as to not make noise as she walked, her stockinged feet delicately tiptoed down the hall. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, she walked on, close to the panelled wall, towards the parlour door.The familiar male voices grew closer and closer.

Suddenly, the voices stopped. She froze, suspecting that perhaps they may have heard her approaching footsteps.  
“In a way, actually, I envy you.” She let out a silent sigh of relief at the sound of Hugh's voice. Sitting on the floor by the doorway with her back to the wooden wall at a distance that she could easily hear from, Caroline bit her lip, hoping desperately that a servant wouldn't catch her eavesdropping like a child.   
“.. And why is that so?” Her husband’s voice rang out in questioning response.  
“Well,” Hugh laughed, humourlessly. “Call me a helpless romantic -which, I admittedly am- but… You have Caroline.” There was a silence, in which the woman in question furrowed her eyebrows in confusion outside. “... She is an exceptional woman, and if you don't mind me saying… Plainly, I can tell that you love each other greatly.” Her husband exhaled, and she could hear the smile in his voice as he said: “... I would tell you in response that you are right.” Hugh laughed again, a little less sombre this time.  
“What I mean is… That you have somebody in your life in which solidarity, confidence and trust can always be found. Somebody who cares for you immaculately, and you her in return. I envy that, for the only woman that I could ever see myself sharing that kind of undying love with is married to the man who saved my life… Who saved both of our lives.” A sharp intake of breath from Dwight, and outside Caroline exhaled shortly in slight surprise, as the gravity of the situation hit her. Demelza had told her of Hugh Armitage’s attentions, and at both her wedding and the dinner held at Tehidy she could see the obvious tension between them, but this was the first time that she had heard a word from Hugh himself.

“Hugh…”   
“Spare me your condolences, for I know that fate is cruel. I must weather it. I know that I can never be with her… It isn't right, nor fair, but in her presence, it just seems like the world, and all of the incompatibility of the love I have for her disappears, and I just fall under love's spell.”   
Hugh stopped, and a palpable silence ensued.   
“You're right in saying that nothing positive can come of this... romance. There is nothing more to it. You must try to move on.” Hugh sighed contemplatively.   
“I know.”  
Smiling with a sympathetic sadness, outside Caroline stood and went to retreat back up the stairs. She deemed that enough spying for one day. 

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

The sky outside was black, and the stars glittered a pretty white in the darkness. It had long since faded from a deep purple to navy, evolving now into a dark black. Tonight was one of those sleepless nights, the ones in which he urged her to sleep as he passed the time staring aimlessly out of the small open crack in the curtains or read a book, not taking in a word as his eyes flickered over the pages. These pleas to which, of course, she always refused, which he secretly was thankful for. 

So they lay, the Cornish sky stretching endlessly outside the window before them. His head rested on her warm stomach, lying sideways as she sat, propped up against the headrest. Her long fingers ran through his dark tinted flaxen hair, twisting the thick, fair locks gently.   
“Thank you.” His voice was soft with the silence, and she let her fingers travel down to brush his cheek with her fingertips.  
“For what?” She looked down to meet his gaze, and he smiled.  
“Earlier, when I was taking to Hugh Armitage he confessed to me that he is in love with Demelza.” He paused, adding quickly, “as this was said in confidence, I of course wouldn't tell you this is Demelza hadn't talked to us about his affliction before.”  
“Of course, my love. I know you well enough to know that you are certainly not the type to gossip.” She smiled at him, laughter shining in her eyes.  
“Well, in his misery he told me that he envied me.” She sobered, her heart swelling with love for him. His empathetic, compassionate nature had always been something she admired in him. While his constant consideration for others was a great asset, it also could stand, in some situations, as a weakness. Quimper was, sadly, one those unfortunate situations. He continued: “And… I realised that I never really thanked you for all you've done for me. You have been such a loving confidante to me through all of this, and expected nothing in return. Never, once. I want you to know that I don't take it for granted.” She watched as he sat up to face her, straightening her back and meeting his earnest gaze. He smiled.

Licking her lips, a rare flash of nervous energy raced through Caroline's body.  
“...I know.” He looked on into the brilliance of her eyes questioningly, obviously expecting a very different response. “What I mean is that… I know what Hugh said.” She looked down, uncomfortable, in feeling ashamed, as she was far from used to it.”...Earlier today, I went downstairs, and eavesdropped on part of your conversation. It, coincidentally, was that part… Admittedly, I left after only five minutes or so, and only did listen in out of curiosity after what Demelza told us...” She trailed off, then looked back at him, expecting him to be hurt. Fidelity, honesty was the one thing that they prided themselves on in their relationship. Betrayal, she was sure, would be written all over his face.

To her surprise, when she met his eyes, they were bright with mirth. Her brow furrowed, and she looked at him, confused.  
“Why are you laughing?” She asked incredulously, her tone one of confusion laced with a slight air of something bordering on offence. Caroline Enys was not one who took kindly to situations that she could not predict the outcome of correctly; she was not familiar, to be concise, with situations in which she was out of her depth. “Are you not… Upset with me? Not vexed in any way?” She watched as his content laughter died down, leaving his face a mite flushed and his eyes shining in the beautiful way that they did only for her. The nightmares of only hours ago were forgotten, replaced with a laughter, with content. Placing his hand softly on her cheek, he smiled. His joy was contagious, and as he looked at her in this blissful, candlelit moment, she felt an inner warmth, and saw in retrospect the humour of the situation.Through all the hardship, they were together, in this moment. Happy.

“Your honesty is admirable, my love, and your compassion endearing.” She reddened slightly, yet raised her eyebrows in her twinkling, coy smirk, snapping into her playful attitude. “But I see no reason to find this as dramatic a situation as you imagine it to be. The very fact and manner in which you ‘confessed’ to me shows me that you are being truthful. Besides, you have many admirable qualities, yet your loyalty outshines them all.” He paused. “Along with your flare for the theatrical.” She raised her eyebrows at him.  
“Well, forgive me if I foresaw my confession of betrayal as eliciting a far more serious response!” He grinned once again, his hand sliding down the soft, feminine curve of her neck to rest on her shoulder, exposed by her nightgown. Rather than pulling back, she attempted poorly to mask the understanding laughter behind her eyes, determined to stay playfully upset.  
“Caroline, I can see in your eyes that you realize how you have looked on this in a much too serious light. What I talk about with Hugh is hardly a secret, and I trust you enough that I believe you did not stay crouched outside for anything above five minutes.” At this, her stubbornness flared even further, and she let out an obdurate sigh of air.  
“I, my dearest Dr. Enys, see nothing but a smitten husband who, in his infatuation and kindly nature, has instantly forgiven his wife’s misdemeanours.” He met her gaze, a skeptical smile gracing his lips as she grinned her dazzling, teasing grin back. Finally, they laughed together.   
Once the noise had died out, her husband kissed her, as she welcomed his warm embrace with equal fervour.  
“I love you.” Their foreheads resting together, quiet and intimate as the night grew even deeper around them.  
“I love you, too.”


	9. Words are not needed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Here's a new chapter, detailing one of the missing moments of episode nine in season three. I hope you like it!

“An uprising.” Demelza Poldark’s blue gaze looked up to meet her closest friend’s own beautiful, bright turquoise eyes, her eyebrows drawn together in concern. Biting her bottom lip, today her classic, perfectly painted scarlet, Caroline Enys sighed worriedly.  
“An uprising…” Caroline’s eyes flew up to her friend’s. “Can you be sure of it?” Nodding, Demelza took her friend’s hand.  
“I’ve had word from many in Truro… Including a rushed message from Ross himself via our footman.” Caroline pressed her lips together, squeezing Demelza’s hand before releasing it.

They were sat in the parlour of Nampara, close next to each other on the bench while a homely, crackling fire burned in the hearth. The warmth of the inside did nothing, however, to quell the cold anxiety festering inside of them both, chilling their skin and sending cold dread slowly to creep up their spines. The volunteer work had worried them both from the start, Demelza for the prospect of some physical harm coming to Ross due to a mistake or bad decision, and Caroline for the fate of both her husband’s body and his mind, the former of which, having made substantial progress, and the latter of which slowly but surely making progress to mend. Quimper had left a wound in Dwight’s mind that would leave an indelible scar on his spirit, yet the wound -at this point in time- was still open, barely a scab covering the open laceration that it had left. And yet, with each night spent peacefully free from nightmares and instead spent passionately, lovingly together, each exchange of playful banter between them, they made it, little by little, step by step, back to normality. With each of these steps, the wound it had left healed little by little. Now, however, Caroline was painfully well aware of how a call to action could have a frightening reversing effect on their progress, disregarding whatever headstrong nonsense that Dwight had said about body over mind. In her mind, he was the patient now, and she, as his wife, was the most well equipped person in the general vicinity of Cornwall to treat his ailments. 

Silence passed between the two women as a million thoughts raced through each of their respective minds.

“Well, it has hardly been long since we heard news of the uprising,” Demelza, ever the optimist, broke the heavy silence. “Perhaps the uprising is nothing more than a small skirmish.” Defiant and stubborn as ever, Caroline looked up once again at her friend with a determined smile.  
“Whatever the case, we shall not just wallow here, apathetically sitting by while the men are off playing with their rifles and their pistols.And besides, I do believe that in the two years or so I have had quite my fair share of thumb-twiddling and idle sitting- enough, I believe, to do me for a lifetime.” Demelza smiled a small smile at her friend, knowing in her heart that Caroline was talking half to reassure Demelza of her defiance, and half to reassure herself. 

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

His eyelids flickering for a moment, Dwight Enys stared forward to the rabble. So many his patients, their chests heaving, eyebrows furrowed and hair in disarray, pitchforks and stakes of wood hanging haggardly from their hands. Now, he gazed at them down the barrel of a gun, his pale, sapphire eyes unseeing. Ross was talking to Tholly, but all he could hear white noise, and all he could think to hear was the prospect of gunshots as the air grew increasingly thick with building tension. Desperately trying to prevent his mind from descending into a panic ashe had done countless times in Quimper, he thought of Caroline.

Her satin lips, her silky champagne coloured hair. Her shining eyes, small upturned nose and the way that she would smile against his kisses, her long feminine fingers on his cheeks and twisting in his hair. He thought of how she would greet him when he returned; with teasing and perfect smiles, while the shine behind her eyes and body language spoke her clear relief, as it always was with her. Swallowing, his mind made the inevitable turn back to reality, away from her ethereal existence and back to the painful, tense air. The minutes laboured by like hours, and he breathed deeply, his logical mind clinging to some smidge of hope that Ross may be able to compromise some peaceful solution rather than one that ended with him desperately trying to save his patients before him from succumbing to bullet wounds he had inflicted.

Shaking his head again at this pessimistic prophecy, Dwight's eyes focused again to see Tholly tuck his pistol into his boot, turning to look at the people behind him. His eyes unmoving from the scene in front of him, he watched as, one by one, the crowd dropped what the various items in their hands. In return, him and the familiar faces surrounding him began to lower their rifles, and he shuddered out a breath of relief. A coldness crashed like a wave over his body, and his hands shook as he staggered back.  
He could go home. He could go home, to the warm. grand pearly marble fireplace and to Caroline. Caroline, and her familiar perfume and ridiculous amount of hats and the warming, yet peculiar way that she made Killewarren feel like home though he had lived there for just three months. He could go home, knowing that no blood was spilt today.

His eyes fluttering up to Ross, who had turned to look at him over his shoulder, Dwight grinned in wide-eyed disbelief. The darker man nodded, smiling as he stepped towards him.  
“The air is clear, my friend.” Ross lay a hand on his shoulder. “I thank you for your loyalty.” He paused, his slim, dark eyes glinting in understanding. “Go home.” Dwight watched as Ross took the rifle from his hand.  
“Thank you.” The euphoria of relief was now over, and was quickly replaced in both of them by a burning desire for home. The two men looked at each other, two battered and wearied friends. and he patted Ross’ shoulder quickly before turning in a brisk walk back to his horse, hear in only his close friends voice dismissing the other soldiers as he left.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Eventually, she had left Demelza. They had claimed to use the time not fretting but making use of it. They were, after all -as Caroline had put it- wives of military men, and ought to be used to it by now. And so, they busied themselves, going for a ride along the cliffs talking of anything but the fighting that consumed their imaginations and laughing. They even stopped to mindlessly pick a few flowers, not ceasing in conversation the entire time, as to busy their minds. When they had returned to Nampara, a message was waiting for them from Prudie. Apparently, the small revolt in Truro had thankfully been diffused by a certain Captain Ross Poldark, though it had teetered dangerously on the edge of becoming a horrid bloodbath. They had rejoiced in the news, and embraced. Caroline had smiled her dazzling grin, back to herself as ever, and bid Demelza a swift, yet mutually understanding farewell as she departed to Killewarren.

She raced home. Caroline had always loved to ride, and now more than ever. The glowing lights of her house could be seen as she approached now, and she pictured the candles gracing every familiar tabletop and the fire she knew well burning in the hearth. She thought of how this familiarity awaited, and of how the glow they emitted shone through the grand windows and seeped through the thin cracks in the woden doorways. The sky above her glittered with stars that she could never see in London, due to the crowded houses and hotels. Here, all dissipated into the grandeur of mother nature, and the buzzing crowds, the turn of carriage wheels and tap of horses’ hooves on cobbles were replaced with the signature click of crickets and the wind stirring spring leaves in their trees.

She thought of him as she dismounted and entered the house, thanking the servants and politely declining offers of tea or canary wine almost absentmindedly. She thought of him, of his caramel hair, a darker blonde than hers, and his eyes. His eyes were the first thing she noticed about him. Those striking eyes, a bright cyan that matched the sky. They were beautiful, she thought, in the way they glowed when in the light, and were shadowed heavily when in darkness. The way they twinkled with hope, and with love when he looked at her, and the haunted, icy look that they harboured in his darkest hours. She thanked heaven that no blood was spilt tonight, and yet found herself wondering if he had been converted now fully to a military man, and would continue to pursue whatever career he could as a naval surgeon. Somebody like Ross, she could see suiting his role the military man he had been for so long, and for good reason; his headstrong, proud and righteous manner belonged with the fighting, but Dwight Enys was an incredibly different man. So much more sensitive and emotionally adept, so much more susceptible to pain and torment. She wondered, but that could come later. For now, she awaited his sweet return.

Realising that she had been so busy untangling this rushing stream of somewhat incomprehensible thought for the last ten minutes, staring blankly at the book she had wished to busy herself with, Caroline shook her head, just to be interrupted, by an external source this time.

Familiar murmurs echoed from the hall, as well as the sound of the heavy oak door closing. He was back. She discarded her book, standing as footsteps approached from her right. Grinning, she moved towards the doorway of the parlour.  
“Well, Dr. Enys,” she raised an eyebrow as he stepped into the light, meeting her with a glittering smile. “You-” she was cut off, however, as he ducked his head, pulling her into a desperate kiss, his hands tightly on her waist, pulling her close. Almost instinctively, she reciprocated, her hands coming up to his shoulders. She smiled as he pulled away, moving to bury his face in her neck. His breath was warm on her neck, and she let her hands travel to rest around him, pulling him closer in their intimacy. Wordlessly, they stood in warm embrace.


	10. Enigma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enid Nance watches from afar, and finds her belief that the world is not only painted in black and white grounded as she watches a wounded love heal before her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I'm not dead! Sorry it's been so long, I've just had some really bad writer's block and have been procrastinating a LOT lately. However, I finally finished this chapter - one that has been sitting in my google docs unfinished for ages! I hope you like it! Oh, also THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 1k HITS! That's so crazy, I would never have thought I'd get that in a thousand years. Truly, I can't express my gratitude enough :D Happy tenth Chapter!

Enid Nance was born on the twenty-ninth of July, in a small cottage, clustered in the middle of Grambler mining town, to a family of two parents and six siblings. As it was with most of her community, she began working young, with her mother, fishing by the rocks at fourteen as means to help pull in the little money they could for their family. Growing up, she was never one for the gossip that her friends and fellows seemed so fond of, and she paid little heed to the rumours about the Trenegloses, Penvenens or Poldarks that so often spread like the plague around her village; there was always some sort of word about secret affairs or financial instability being whispered, and Enid found herself tiring of it quickly. She believed, from a young age, that you could not know a person truly until you had known them personally over a reasonable extent of time. Of course, a certain extent of judgement is simply in human nature, and yet Enid was compassionate simply by character, and thus restrained the forming of conscious opinions about others before she knew them.

Since he had arrived in the district in seventeen eighty-eight as a young doctor- bright-eyed and eager- Dr. Dwight Enys had attended Enid and her family, as he had almost every other family in Grambler. He was a gentleman, yet one of the humble kind, much like his close friend Ross Poldark. His kind consideration and outstretched hand in the face of the poverty-stricken population in Cornwall was something that all admired, and he gained a touching sense of trust from much of the community. When the incident in which Dr. Enys became involved with Mark Daniels’ wife -Keren- arose, most of the village forgave Dr. Enys immediately although it did end badly, knowing her wayward manner and the fawning she had expressed over the surgeon. Despite this, it was observed by many that Dwight Enys seemed to find it far harder to forgive himself. Enid herself had never doted on him as Rosina Hoblyn did, to which he never responded -as expected after the Daniels’ tragedy- yet all the same, she admired his kind yet diligent manner and impeccable empathy.

Caroline Penvenen had been, when she first arrived in Cornwall, one of those untouchable members of the gentry. Young, beautiful, rich, and fresh from London with a ready-made suitor at her arm, she seemed, at surface value, in every way, the perfect stereotypical heiress of her station. She was seen about the town, riding in her carriage; tall, blonde, fresh-faced, and many had not paid her much heed at first. She seemed rather two-dimensional, and her companion Unwin Trevaunance was so distasteful that she was disregarded by many. Enid saw little of her, and she paid her similarly little heed. 

When, later of course, rumours reached her that Dr. Enys was involved in some clandestine affair with Caroline Penvenen, she disregarded them, perceiving them as the simple rumours she had heard so often, and even further being convinced of it being invalid when miss Penvenen left for London with her uncle in early seventeen ninety-three, and Dwight Enys proceeded with a seemingly nonsensical decision to join the navy. The fiasco of Charlie Kemphthorne’s betrayal and the dragoons almost arresting the smugglers on Nampara cove was accounted as a reason to this, however, as well as his rather sombre mood before he left. 

When he then did leave, Grambler missed him sorely, as did Sawle, and in his absence miss Penvenen had returned to care for her sickly uncle, who was clinging to life with barely his fingertips. She busied herself by, along with Demelza Poldark, holding many charity events for the poor, raising money and changing many people's perceptions of her. It was then that Enid saw her as more of a human being.

Sometimes, as she was sent out to fetch some grain from these efforts for the poor, she would catch a glimpse of Caroline Penvenen looking out to the pale horizon, poised and pensive in her expression. Longing was palpable in her gaze.

It was then, and only then, that Enid paid any thought to the rumours of some connection between Caroline Penvenen and Dwight Enys.

When Dr. Enys did return half-dead to Cornwall after a long nineteen months as a prisoner of war, the general inhabitants of Enid’s village were so preoccupied with jocund celebration at having their loyal surgeon being returned to them and that they would no longer need to rely on the money-hungry charlatan that Dr. Choake was, that the otherwise scandalous fact that he was living alone, unmarried in Killewarren with Caroline Penvenen seemed to pass them by. Edith liked to think that after what both miss Penvenen and Dr. Enys had done for them through all the years, they let them be, thinking that the two deserved to simply be happy together.

They were married in the October of seventeen ninety-five, and the district was hardly surprised.

When Enid's mother urged her to apply for the position of maid at Killewarren when it opened a few weeks after the wedding, she had -reluctantly at first- agreed. Jumping so suddenly from the normality that she had lived in for so long, occupying her hours with her fishing and her books, to this position in a larger estate was quite a terrifying prospect for her, yet with the knowledge that she would only be a few miles away from her home and the fact that she had known Dr. Enys for almost her entire life eventually enticed her into agreement.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

It was well known in every district that relationships within the upper classes in which the two involved truly loved each other were incredibly rare. Despite this, the paring of Dr and Mrs. Enys was seemingly genuine. The difference in station between them spoke in advocacy for this - anyone who had met Dwight Enys knew that he could never in any world be anything even resembling a fortune hunter, and similarly, anyone who had met Caroline Penvenen knew that she was far from the type of young woman who would fall into the clutches of a man simply after her money, especially now that her uncle was gone. This left only one possible, heartwarming explanation. That they truly did love each other. After all, he did come back from the brink of death for her, and personally for Enid, the look in Caroline Penvenen’s eyes on that bitter, clear day last Winter was enough for Enid to believe it. It intrigued her, somehow, their relationship. and there was a part of her that ached to know it.

At first, still, she had been terribly anxious. That anxiety flowed gradually into an intrigue that grew by the minute, however, as Enid became better accustomed to her new position. It was not that she wished to be impertinent, but something in her was drawn to the story behind the rumours concerning the inhabitants at Killewarren that had formed a background noise for years of her life.

While she found Dr. Enys to be everything she expected in his similarly new position as the master of Killewarren -humble and gratuitous, as he had always been- Caroline Enys was far more of an enigma. She opened up to nobody, it seemed, maintaining a polite, gracious, yet stoic composure. She was, far more so than her husband, hard to read. She seemed to let this guard down in the company of none, save her husband and the Nampara-Poldarks, who visited often. Enid could tell from the tone of her voice, and the way she laughed in their company. Soon, she realised that Dwight Enys also had a mystery of character shrouded from her too. Still recovering from his time in France, at first it seemed to only affect him physically, sores fading from his face and lips slowly and the unnatural thinness slowly diminishing, and yet his bright eyes held a haunted look that seemed never to fade. A wounded, stricken, shaken haze behind his thoughts - a realm in which feelings that seemed to take the priority. This, she gathered in only her first few days, having always been an observant young woman. Her mother had always claimed it would get her into trouble someday, and this newfound interest in the lives of her master and mistress, Enid wondered, may lead to it. It did nothing to deter her, however, this fleeting thought.

Despite the clear care that the two shared for each other, there was something that didn't quite agree with this observation. There was a coldness between them that only was quite apparent to Enid after she both her mistress and master. He was jittery, distant and on edge at all times, while she remained hesitant and nervous around him. Enid's parents had been loving and close despite all trials and poverty they faced, and strangely, seeing this awakened in her something akin to an ache for the clearly wounded relationship lying before her eyes.

It was only a handful of weeks before she first saw a glimpse of the inner workings that so interested her, as it all came to a head one bright, Spring day.

She had no intention of being intrusive, yet something tied her to them. She was stoking the fire in the second parlour towards the back of KIllewarren, when Dr. Enys breezed past her in the corridor. Usually, he would turn and nod in greeting as he passed her, or offer a ‘good morning’ with a smile, but today he simply kept his eyes fixed on the stone archway leading to the garden before him. Following his gaze into the beautiful, cobbled greenery that the huge, arching clear windows behind her framed, she could just see through gaps in the twisting green and pinks that made up the rose bushes that crept up to cradle the windows. Beyond them, an ocean of every shade of green imaginable, graced with the violets, roses and azures of various flowers. They all glowed in the sunlight, and amidst them all, glowing the brightest as she sat elegantly in white, her blonde curls neatly pinned up with one cascading prettily down her shoulder, was Mrs. Enys, transcendent amongst the vegetation, looking forward, her back to the woman watching. Lost in the picturesque moment, Enid’s mind slipped away into the visage before her as she watched on, as Dr. Enys joined her. There they sat together on the white bench. She watched as they talked. His gaze flickered, tearfully, and as her Mistress put her arm around him, leaning forward with a pretty, relieved smile, her long fingers brushing his cheek. In the intimacy of this moment, Edith once again could feel heat rising in her cheeks and the feeling as if she had been prying rose like a thick smoke in her chest. Standing up and putting the poker back into its place, she dusted her hands on her apron before promptly walking out of the room.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

The scene that she had witnessed had touched Enid, and it was only a day before this awe and sudden belief in a hope for romance that it had struck her with was solidified.

One night, there was a shout from upstairs that was bordering on a scream, and it awoke Enid, who nervously scurried out of bed to pull her robe on over her simple nightdress, then pulled her dark hair up quickly, creeping silently up the stairs. The sound had been quiet enough to leave the other three servants sleeping, and no other followed, and so her anxiety began to dissipate and she decided not to shout out in question as she mounted the elegant wooden stairs.  
“I promise, my love, you are home. Everything is going to be alright… eventually.” It was her mistress’ voice, but not as Enid had ever heard it before. It had the same open element that it did when she laughed with the Poldarks, or with her husband, that she had noticed earlier; and yet it had a loving, earnest soft element that struck Enid with a sudden feeling that she was intruding on a private moment. The sounds of quiet crying and a staggered intake of breath rung out before Dr. Enys spoke, shaken and vulnerable in tone. It was considerably different from the kind, yet clinical voice he typically addressed his patients and acquaintances with, or even the soft, humorous one he used with his close friends. It was shaken, hurt, yet open and almost warm in a way.  
“I think that could almost let myself believe that.”  
In that moment, she knew that she would not be needed, late that cold November night. Her interest was not quelled, yet she had come somewhat closer to the sense of an understanding of these two mysterious people, united intimately that night.

Tiptoeing away as quietly as she had come, Enid smiled a sad smile to herself. She pitied his suffering, yet had no fear for the future of it, for simply the tone of voice in which his wife had offered her comfort had been enough to give her assurance that, as Mrs. Enys herself had said, they would be alright, eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you have time, please drop me a nice comment or some kudos :)


	11. Bliss//Evanescence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A two part chapter, as follows:
> 
> i. Dwight marvels at how beautiful his life truly is in the moment- set somewhere vaguely in the plotline. Originally posted on Tumblr for the absolutely wonderful Arlome, under the prompt: 'Not a day goes by that I do not think of you.' Very fluffy in contrast to how sad sad sad the second one is whoops. Enjoy!
> 
> ii. SPOILERS FOR LATTER SEASON 4 EPISODES!! Please stop at the (ii.) if you don't want season four spoilers and haven't read The Angry Tide.  
> Dwight reels during the afternoon of the day that Caroline leaves for London following Sarah's death, very very sad and poetic so enjoy??

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a quick warning again: SPOILER ALERT for later Season four episodes! Don't read (ii.) If you haven't read TAT or don't want spoilers!
> 
> Hi! I'm back with a double barrel little chapter, and I hope you guys like it! Expect many new stories on my page as the new season inspiration starts to really flow :D The first is very happy, the second terribly sad and both very poetic. Happy reading!

i. The times like these, Dwight considers, are the ones that he cherishes the most. Of course, there are the obvious events- the ones that will always remain in a bright, luminescent treasure trove within his memories; their wedding, the first time she told him that she loved him, the first time they had kissed, and other firsts that will always stay with him, love woven through every second. And yet these occasions, the ones that catch him unaware, the ones that are so raw and striking, ones that somehow seem to always make the concerns that plague him simply dissipate -even if only for a short while.

This is one of these moments.

Caroline is smiling. Not in a smirk that tugs one corner of her mouth humorously upward in her teasing way -that type of smile so often graces her, and he knows exactly what is going to emerge from those pretty lips when she smiles that smile- but rather a simple, beautiful, jubilant smile that graces her fair skin and sets her eyes to something akin to a glittering turquoise sea. This smile he sees rarely directed to any other than himself and Caroline's close friends, and somehow, this knowledge evokes a warm comfort in him that spills from his overflowing heart, flushing his entire body in a warmth that only she can bring.

As has often been the case with them all words flatten and roll, melt before them into silk- soft and comforting as they lie in the atmosphere, evaporated now into the soothing category of what may have been. All that is needed between them now is each other's presence. Memories, of stolen kisses and discovery lie open in this place. It was her suggestion, and he -quite frankly- finds himself caught, overwhelmed, when he looks over at her. She walks, light-footed in an ease of manner that she allows herself only around him, he recognises, and knows he finds it so much more beautiful than the inward rigidity and outward elegance she displays as her armour amongst most others as a withstanding effect of her being raised as an heiress. Her dress today is lilac, and it accentuates the ambiguous blue-green of her eyes, brightening further the amber flecks in them that flash in contrast with the similar light lilac ribbon she wears in her hat. This colour is, suitably, so close to being the same colour as the bluebells- those that stand at the edges of the clearing, wavering, quivering- a homage to that day he had first kissed her, heralding the memories.

I love you, he thinks, watching as she steps, stretching her arms out almost as a way of embracing the setting -and all it resembles. The sunlight streams through the emerald greenery of the trees, pale canary sunlight and grey shadows running over her as she moves. He simply has to stop and watch as her champagne ringlets are tousled in the breeze, and her skirts are similarly blown, the fabric rippling. She turns to him. Nearly all words evaporate in their shared gaze. She -in this rare, raw moment- drops all pretences of her usual saunter and teasing tone, turning to him.  
‘If you were to go back to that day, would you change anything about it?’ There is no coyness, no laughter in her tone- sincerity overcoming any premeditated filippancy. He smiles.  
‘Perhaps I would have reiterated one thing to you further. Thrown caution to the wind in a sense- and have let you know every day of a fact that will persist between us until the end of time.’ She raises an eyebrow, smiling.  
‘How poetic! And what, may I ask, would that be?’  
‘Not a day goes by that I do not think of you.’

-/-/-

ii. The room looks strange now, he considers vaguely. It is odd -how it has been years now since he began his life at Killewarren- yet in this moment, as the sun slowly makes the fields it’s grave and drenches the sky in a haze of fire and rose, the edges of the clouds glistening in gold as if the liquid they had evaporated from had not been simple water but glittering liquid gold. The beauty of the natural world does not -despite all its wonder- touch his soul as it often does, but instead he feels as though it is mocking him. Perhaps it is for his vision is blurred from the persistent tears that seem to relentlessly sway his vision -or perhaps it is that he feels truly, truly alone for the first time since he had been married, and his life had become a blur of heartache, warmth and heartrending love as vivid and deep as the exergues of the Carthaginian medals. 

Sarah is gone.

All she resembled, gone in one tiny sputtering instant. Her little flame of life that they had -in some emotionally incomprehensible way- created solely from their love spluttered and died -and with her has left a piece of his heart.

Caroline. Despite everything, in his heart he cannot bring himself to resent her for leaving. Somewhere past those trees she is alone too- and it although there is a gaping hole in his heart he longs for her with all her being. There is no resentment. He knows her too well for contempt. He inexplicably yearns for her, wishing that he could wrap his arms around her and simply soothe all the pain. He would gladly take it for himself and feel double the grief he is feeling now if only it meant she were to be relieved. The fact that there is nothing he can do to comfort her frankly kills him. He lets himself collapse, sitting messily on the bed. The light is fast draining from the room now, and he cannot bring himself to move. In this dusk, while tenebrosity is beginning to creep slowly across the expanse of the now violet sky, he thinks of how the joyous memories of this room now seem memories that he retains of another man’s life -one full of far off elation and intimacy. Only now the last few months unfold and stretch out before him, each hour remembered a tortuous lifetime. The bright memories are simply slipping through his fingers like fine sand. The final grains of her petal lips blossoming into a glittering smile and playful azure eyes shining in exuberance.

Now the sky gives way to a nocturnal beauty- twinkling stars embedded in the dark sky that fades from black to navy blues then back to black again. He will not sleep tonight. He is too used to company in his bed now, and waking tomorrow morning will too painful with the absence of it now would simply inflict his pain freshly again, stinging and resounding rather than the ebb of constant mourning toying at his heart. He would rather cling to this numbness until it finally breaks him.

The fire is already out, and he sluggishly rises to blow out the candles, sitting gently down with a shuddering breath. Pulling off his boots absentmindedly, he simply stares out to the window once again. On the window seat, he can almost see her as she likes to so often sit. Drenched in moonlight, a silver glow highlighting her snow-like skin and bringing a transcendent light to her turquoise eyes. She gazes longingly out, eyes glassy as she had last looked at him as her carriage rolled away. A numb, hurt, aching look that simply said ‘I'm sorry’, yet simultaneously -as she ever is- unapologetic. Like the moon she is in this ghostly memory by the window to be -above all- admired. Untouchable, radiant beauty. He closes his eyes and looks away. 

For a little while, the silence echoes, and for just a moment more he closes his eyes and lets himself imagine that this tragedy has not passed. That they, together, are lying in their bed, content, warm and loving as ever. That if he were to rise now, he would be met with the sight of a carefully crafted mahogany crib -and were he to peer over the side- he would be met with those gentle, smiling, rosy cheeks and those beautiful round, gentle, caring blue eyes of Sarah’s. That his heart was content and his life.more perfect than it ever had been.

That all this festering grief, this pain and loss and fear that Sarah had left in her absence were no longer present.

That these wounds that would develop eventually into scars were simply not inflicted on him to begin with. That there was light -and not this night in his soul seemingly deprived of a moon or stars- this cruel contrast to the glow of the true night stretching far beyond his window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, and if you enjoyed it please remember to drop a comment or something kudos in support! It really brightens up my day :)


	12. Let it last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caroline arrives in London following Sarah's death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This chapter was first posted for fuckyeahdwightandcaroline's carolight fanwork week on tumblr! There's more of my stuff there too, but it's not exactly my greatest work. Enjoy!

Caroline Enys’ eyes glanced around the familiar room from where she sat, poised, on the comfortable seat. A distantly familiar fine white silk adorned the furnishings and hung elegantly around the tall windows, framing prettily the handsome, baronial firetrap houses that lined the street opposite. She glanced out, past the perfect glass. The familiar luscious golds and loud bustle of the country’s capital writhed meaninglessly beneath her cold, unwavering gaze -a haze of futile colour. It gleamed, like an intoxicating picture of some alluring, hollow world to which she, broken, had sacrificed herself to. A world so different to the one she had grown acclimated to over these past few years.  
The sun was high in the sky -above the buildings, glowing, casting an angelic white-gold light upon all in it’s sight and setting the clouds ablaze in a celestial fire of oregold-yellow and empyreal pearl-white.

She had left early.

Their goodbye had been bittersweet, full of pretty, understanding speeches on his part and self-deprecating, blase nonchalance on hers. All, as it ever really was with them, had ended with them simply looking at each other to express what truly lie beneath the words.-  
Unflinching. 

She could not cry about such things.

Caroline’s parents had died when she was but ten years old, so young that the image of their faces had long since faded into the vibrant blur of childhood memories. She was left with two uncles and an aunt -torn between homes- and multiple strict nurses. She had been built a world of silks and finery -any expression of emotion all through her life truly frowned upon. She could remember -despite how young she was- barely shedding two tears over her parents’ deaths before she was told that among all and any company she must not be so raw and undignified. Any deep attachment of that sort -it was unseemly and unbecoming of a lady bearing the Penvenen name. Sarah Pelham had never exactly been like a mother, yet they had grown closer in a more sisterly manner throughout Caroline’s youth into adolescence and beyond. Still, she taught much the same -it was all she had ever known, after all. Their reunion had been brief, and her aunt’s considerate smiles and apologies for her bereavement was a sharp stab to the heart in the face of all this fresh familiarity in London that she wished to distract herself with. Perhaps Caroline’s fears concerning motherhood had sprung from those unavoidable, diseased roots and this stigma against all and any feeling. She knew, in retrospect, that love was something she had never been shown a speck of -and had foolishly believed as a product of this glamorous society in London that everyone of intelligence over the world was much the same. Her theory had not been proven wrong for all her life leading to that day in Bodmin Assiez. Cornwall for all it’s stretching hills and meddlesome, rocky pathways had shown her a deeper set, stirring emotional current in life that had gone undiscovered before.

Of course, withstanding this life in Cornwall came Dwight, with his threadbare coat and stubborn, set principles, so different from her and all she'd ever known in the way he cared. The way his raw feeling echoed in the resonating, impossibly light glowing arctic blue of his eyes. His eyes. The eyes that had been the first to discern her hardened, toying affectations and see straight into her heart, hidden away and dormant. And how -despite all she had ever known- none of this diminished his sharp intelligence in the slightest.

She stopped herself. 

Thinking of him would only lead back to the reason behind her -excursion- in the first place -but, despite everything... She reached out her hand and placed it, calmly, on the tiny lace bonnet that she had brought for -God knows why. She had come here to get away from all the remains and reminders of Sarah and yet this… It grazed her fingertips slightly and her chest rose in a half sob, yet her cheeks were dry. It was almost physical now -and she wished she could scream. That she could scream and let the tears fall heavily -unburdening her tempestuous heart and simply make this swelling pain go away.

Oh, she had jested. What cruel irony memories brought her now. How they mocked her. Of course, she had loved Sarah Enys. She had loved, and she had lost, as she had so many times before.  
Her parents.  
Her uncle.  
Now, her only daughter.  
Was she was cursed, to lose everyone she had ever loved? If she were to lose Dwight… To lose him, frankly, would break her.

She had found him, cold to the touch and tearful in his study. She had frantically wondered, and she had frantically worried, but she hadn't even considered the possibility of it being something to do with Sarah. When he had finally come out with it… What a waste. Of life, of love.

And now, she sat alone. In her room with all its shining, fresh furnishings and beautiful, crisp bed sheets. Alone. Was it not all she had asked for?

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

She had laughed an amount tonight that she felt now ashamed of. To be once again enamoured with the rustle of ballgowns and glistening of jewels of London life was all she had expected and dearly, twistedly wished for. The vacuous, superficial charm and empty smiles from yearning hearts was the striking, aggressively stimulating break and contrast that she had ached for and fallen back on when she left Cornwall. It was all she had anticipated, which was paradoxically a great relief and odd disappointment. Marriage -motherhood- had softened her. 

She stared, emptily, at the beams of moonlight that a crack in the curtains betrayed into her room, projected onto the dark ceiling.

Now alone she could not help thoughts from seeping into her mind. Something came from this awful darkness, some scheming spirit that forced one's mind to contemplate in the unbearable silence all one longed to forget in the day. All the soirees and dinners and social calls that the cowardly of the human race had conjured to distract themselves -it fell apart at night.

The bed was so frightfully cold, and she could not only blame the thinness of her silk nightgown.

Her smile. Oh, how she wished she could forget that little face, the button nose and soft fluff of flaxen hair. Those wide, inquisitive, innocent blue eyes that were so very much Dwight's. Sarah’s eyes -Dwight’s eyes. His glimmer of wistfulness, the soft glow of lucidity betraying the dreamer beneath the rather austere exterior.

A flash of deja vu hit her.

It always came back to London. Before, she had been lying much like this, longing to forget his eyes and his hair. That shabby coat blowing in the wind, whipping gently around his legs as he stared toward the horizon pensively -he always felt so strongly, so expressively- out to the sea that seemed a simple extension of that enigmatic colour that had once gazed at her with such love and admiration. Now, she wanted to forget not him but instead a far more abstract concept -her grief.

Yet in some cruel way it was, in truth, similar to before. Then, she had longed forget the prospect of a life she may have had. A life with Dwight in Bath, how she dreamed it may have been. Now she pondered much the same -a life with Sarah still with them. A life that she so longed for with all the depth and breadth that the confines of her cynical heart could manage. Fantasies of possibility avoided during the day and haunting during the night.

It was unhealthy here -that much she knew. She couldn't see the stars beyond the buildings and thick clouds. Apart from all those she cared about. Yet she was selfish, and that was what she had wished. She would deprive them all of her presence and commit herself to these lonely rooms and cold beds and sycophantic, inane, shallow party guests.

All for what? Not to grieve. Not to escape, for it was inescapable and that much she knew.

For distraction? Distraction from this void in the shape of Sarah that diseased her. Yet, it was something else too. Perhaps to let the days, now void of emotion, alleviate all her physical energy so she may use all the emotional energy it left for this mirage of another life- so that she may let it continue on blissfully during the nights within the locked doors and confines of her mind.

Even if it was only to be for a little while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so.much for reading, and please leave me kudos or. a comment if you liked it!


	13. Deserved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At least, they could perhaps -though all this- lend her the love that she so deserved -yet so undeservedly missed out on in life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is another oneshot from carolight fanwork week -and the onlt other that I'll post on here from tumblr. I hope you like it, even if it's a little short.

The wide, ink black expanse of the sea unfurled -surrendering itself to the night before them. Ambiguous; it’s reflective surface ever-changing, shimmering, the darkness beneath reaching as deep as the exergues on Carthaginian medals. A path glimmered, almost iridescent, stretching from the moon and wavering atop the dark waters towards them in a silver trail. Mesmerised, they stared onward. This transcendent glow stretched also to the clouds, hauntingly ethereal in its embrace of the sky and land -bathing. Stars were absent, sacrificing all and only to the moon.

This beauty melted into the background, however, before the solid, small, rounded silhouette before the two figures’ eyes. The words on it were cast in shadow by this distant brilliance, obscuring the engravings to all but the two darkened figures that knelt before it. There was little wind but a light breeze that night.

Sarah Caroline Enys.  
1799.

Dwight Enys looked over at his wife. She looked solemn, reverent. She did, always when they came here without fail monthly. During the rare times that she did talk openly of Sarah, her blue-green eyes -that were such a beautiful marine, sparkling in the light of the morning sun like a fresh, beautiful blossoming meadow full of bluebells- took on a distant, softened glow. Tonight, in the darkness, she lifted her fair face to the darkening sky and emerald-cobalt shifted into the colour of this deep ocean before them -the moon bringing a silver, foggy blue glint in it’s light. 

She was grazing her tips of her fingers across their two year old daughter's head with a motherly fondness. Sophie's eager blonde hair had grown quickly already, and now, curled up in her mother's arms asleep, it was splayed out across the shoulder of Caroline's long, dark cloak. He looked down at the own little girl asleep in his arms. She was so small, so delicate -with similar darkened blonde waves beginning to grow, far more like whips than her sister’s, yet just like Sophie, he recognised, a mimic of his in colour and wave. Meliora. Her fair lashes were closed in slumber. He smiled faintly. Sophie and Meliora. They were so beautiful, and he basked in the happiness they brought him each and every day, and yet- there still was a small, now dulled longing that they raised in both him and in Caroline. Of course, their love would always take foreground but it was just these days, each month, that the pain was renewed and they ached together. For what could have been. For what Sarah might have had.  
“She would have been five years old now -I dare believe that they would have liked an older sister.”  
“...Yes.” She exhaled her eyes never breaking from the horizon. He smiled, his heart full of that fond, aching remembrance that -by now- had become a part of him. He stood, glancing down at the lilies that had been placed before the headstone so delicately.

She stood, reached out and looped her arm through his before coming up to support the sleeping girl lying upon her shoulder. They had always been tactile. Words between them had always been important, yes, but their understanding and passion for one another lie deeply, deeply expressed in touch. He valued it above all things.

The two headstones were alone on that hill. While the distance between them that Sarah’s death brought had dissipated with each day’s passing -and now Sophie and Meliora, each time they came to this cliffside it was always reverentially quiet. Through doing this for her, they could at least hope to do her some of the kindness and show her some the love that she had missed out on in life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Please let me know if you liked it.


	14. Boundless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during The Black Moon, featuring a yearning Caroline and missing Dwight in Quimper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry I've been away for so long, dearest readers, but I've been unbelievably busy. This was just sitting unfinished in my docs so I tidied it up a bit and... here's the result! Please give me some kudos if you can, and drop me a comment while you're down there.

Right on her doorstep, the sea lies -as it always has. Caroline swears that if she turns her head a certain way, a path is illuminated, grass and dust and cobbles just a little more of blue-tinted grey than that of the darkness surrounding it. It leads her eyes, her gaze that she is sure she cannot trust now, down, down, towards where she knows the cliffs lie. The cliffs and the shore, stretching far and beyond.

Boundless.

She does not feel herself tonight.

It is a frighteningly cold winter outside the confines of these walls, and Caroline knows it. A dry chill has hung in the air for days now, keeping the climate not cold enough for snow, yet still far too much of a crisp, glacial cold to be the pleasant, mild sort that brings a refreshing pink to your cheeks and crisp, swirling frost fresh in the morning to replace Spring’s dew. There is no point in attempting to read, she thinks, looking out across the trees, upon the land she calls home. The sky, she notes, is darkening fast into a royal blue, and will soon be a dark navy, running like wet ink on paper -into black. The stars begin to blink into view, shimmering, bright pale beautiful orbs gracing the sky in a glittering haze. In London, she would never see the stars. The buildings and chimneys and clouds would block them out almost every night without fail- and yet in contrast Cornwall’s night sky is almost as bright as day.

Sighing, she turns from the landscape stretched before her and back to the warmth of her bedroom. This is a different similarity. Less elusive, more controlled and ordered. As she likes things to be -or as she tells herself she does. Caroline lets her eyes survey her surroundings in her disquietude. She sweeps them over her large four poster bed, a dark mahogany, with sheets clean and smooth from where they have been changed but a few hours ago. Over her dressing table, the deliciously frivolous golden framed mirror, a sea of powders and jewelry boxes laying splayed before the silver surface.

Oh, she does not feel herself tonight.

Perhaps it is the loneliness that creeps into her bones. The restlessness that crawls under her skin and drenches her muscles with cold, liquefied unused energy. There is nothing for her to do, here, now. Nothing tethering her to this beautiful place but the promise of reformation that she can’t rightly grasp; a future that she can’t confirm -and so she will most certainly not permit her mind to run away with her. Yet somehow, along with uncle Ray has gone all and anything material, all and anything that she could busy herself with in day and distract her from the precarious matter of Dwight’s well being.

With uncle Ray, has also gone anything solid to excuse her introversion with. Gone in a moment, her pleas.

’I do have so sick an uncle, and he requires my utmost attention’.

Now, what was there to stave off the blatantly agenda-ridden post-scripts of Unwin’s letters? His urges for her to return to London, and high society. What was there to stave off the endless questions in note from the Conistons; the vacuous consolations from her London friends who did not know her uncle; are not acquainted with true grief.

The window calls her back again.

Do you see it? -The view seems to ask.

-And all of a sudden, she is outside.

The air is still, but cold.

'You will catch a chill, my love'- She can hear him now, from across the channel. 'Why do you not bring a cloak?' His eyes are so soft, so caring. His tone dulcet and warm with care. Memories surround her -and in the shadows of the trees he appears everywhere. He is slowly, but constantly, draining every other thought but him from her; binding her mind in string, tight and merciless like that of her corset. The corset that she can still feel him so gently fumbling with and releasing her from that last night.

She is walking. All is drenched is silence and darkness; dripping with it like the roses in her garden with morning dew -but heavier, more meaningful and alive. She can feel the signs of life in the night. It is almost as if it has a heartbeat -and breaths, that she finds in the sound of the tide. The waves crashing. The sound so near now.

Sandy feet, she has always so hated sandy feet. The way that those fine little grains of gold irrevocably settled in her stockings and so refused to leave. Raw nature surrounds her, and she feels so ardently out of place. Her heeled, blue shoes sink into the sand and she walks carefully to the water’s edge.

Not too close.

How she has changed.

Braving the water’s edge. The formality of her dress. He was right. She is cold. Her skirts are billowing around her, but the tightness and endless layers of dress she is so used to feels alien on her skin now -it all does nothing to aid the fact she is shivering, shivering, shivering. In a way, she cannot blame only on the Winter air and sea breeze.

A younger version of herself would not have dreamed of such a feat. What if people were to see? But no -she is no longer that prim young girl so used to getting what she wants; that girl so bold, so daring -hiding beneath so perfect a façade of laughter and a shock-effect attitude that disbelief would strike all faced with how underneath she was so very scared and so very unsure of herself.

All but him.

Ross and Demelza are so nearby -this woman she has made her friend and found so endearing over the last few months. She wonders if Demelza has ever been enraptured all of a sudden like this. 

No, Demelza is soulful. She is one with the wind and the tide.

No- then she instead wonders if Demelza spends every day like this -tempted and alive with nature. Demelza, who is more than she perhaps will ever be. A woman -a wife- content with where she stands in marriage, a loving mother.

That is the truth, and Caroline bitterly faces it so plainly. If Dwight does not return from the dark tendrils of this black sea that has enticed him away from her, then of course, she would eventually be forced to give in to some proposal from Lord something-or-other in London. Perhaps she may learn to be complacent as a wife -even content. But he would not be Dwight -and deep in her heart she knows that no other could demand her admiration so kindly and without menace or means to. That no other could she want to make a home, a family, with of her own volition. Deep in her heart he would simply remain.

Eventually, Ross and Demelza would forget the loss of him with each other there. And his villagers, his fisherfolk. They would soon adapt to the space that he left in their lives in his absence. She would be the sole person left knowing him until her last days. A secret, locked chest in her heart of secret meetings and stolen kisses and that one night spent before he left.

But she must not run away with herself. After all, in simplicity, she hopes for him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, and remember to leave me some kudos if you please!


End file.
